


as if she were the sun

by hannamoon, viioletlights



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cat Pascal, Dog Max, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Just for the Flavour, Light Angst, The Plot is Character Development
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannamoon/pseuds/hannamoon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/viioletlights/pseuds/viioletlights
Summary: “I can’t believe we did it,” she whispers as he turns off the ignition.“Not too late to head back,” he says, fully knowing that Rapunzel would loathe the idea in spite of her sudden hesitation. She turns to him with the shocked stare he expected, bringing a soft laugh from his chest as he leans over to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.(Or, an AU based on the theory that if Eugene and Rapunzel were millennials they'd absolutely be van youtubers.)
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. he stepped down

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to the wonderful vi for letting me co-parent this au with her!
> 
> general disclaimer for any inaccuracies here within. i did an unhealthy amount of research for this, but i've never been to half of these places or done half of these things, so don't expect this to be an in-depth guide to van life or anything.
> 
> i've got 5 chapters planned for this! it’s mostly just little scenes of them navigating life together than an actual fic, but i hope you love it as much as i do!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "he stepped down, trying not to look at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking."  
> \- leo tolstoy, anna karenina

_“Destroying a van with my girlfriend” uploaded by EugeneFitz on 9 May 2015._

_[Begin Transcript 00:01:04]_

_[A woman with blonde hair stands with her back turned in front of a black van with most of its interior removed. She appears to be measuring something as the camera shakily focuses on her.]_

_Rapunzel: —and that should leave enough room for storage under the bed! I’d connect the water and propane through here, see?_

_Eugene [Behind the camera]: You know I don’t know enough to have an opinion on that._

_Rapunzel: But you like it?_

_Eugene: Yeah, sunshine, it sounds amazing._

—

“I think it’s done.”

Eugene looks up from his breakfast, toast frozen halfway to his mouth, to see Rapunzel standing in his doorway looking much smaller than usual. Normally when she barged through his door with news like this, she’s grinning ear to ear and swirling him up and out into the driveway to see her work. But now her hands are folded in front of her, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast.

“Done?” he repeats.

“Yeah.” She slinks closer, taking a seat at the table next to him and stealing a gulp of his coffee. “Just connected everything to the electrical grid. It should be good to go.”

“That’s incredible, babe! Isn’t it?”

She finally looks up at him, wide green eyes filled with a fear that takes him aback. “I don’t know. Like, what comes next? What do I do now?”

Shoving the rest of the toast in his mouth, Eugene contemplates her question. It’s not that she’s dishonest, but he’s found over the past month with her that she rarely discusses what’s truly on her mind. Through various trial and error, he’s discovered that the best course of action is typically to ask for more information.

“What do you mean?” he asks around a mouthful of toast.

“I mean we’ve just spent the past two weeks straight renovating this van, and I…” Her cheeks flush. “I’ve enjoyed being here with you. I don’t want it all to end.”

Her words warm his heart more than he could’ve prepared for. A month ago he never could’ve predicted the bright, bubbly girl would impact his life so heavily, quickly upturning every dark stone he’d collected throughout his miserable existence. Well, not that he thought it was so awful until she’d enlightened him with everything he’d missed out on—she felt so strongly, all of the time, it dredged up emotions in him that he didn’t know he was capable of.

He didn’t know how she got these ideas in her head, though. Sure, he’d watched her spend every waking hour converting his old van into a miniature home on wheels, jumping between construction projects and textbooks on electricity and Pinterest boards so quickly it gave him whiplash. He supposes it could be disappointing reaching the end of such a daunting project, especially one she poured so much soul into, but wouldn’t she be as excited for the next part of their adventure? Perhaps there was more to emotions than he’d originally grasped.

“Good thing you’re going to be stuck with me in a tiny van for the foreseeable future, then,” he says, unsure how to unpack all his thoughts at once.

“You mean you still want to go through with it?”

Eugene stares at her, watching her slowly spin his coffee mug around on the table and refusing to meet his eyes again. When he doesn’t immediately answer, Rapunzel speaks up again, her words bumbling over each other in their escape from her lips.

“Because I would understand if it was all a little crazy. It’s a pretty big commitment, after all, and I’m probably not the first person you’d want to go with—”

“Hey, whoa, wait a minute. What are you talking about?”

Getting up, he slides his chair until it’s slatted square against hers, then sits back down to take her into his arms. He’s seen enough of her panicking to pick up on the tell-tale signs. His hands slide up and over her shoulders, framing her jaw so he can tilt her face to his and press a solid kiss to her forehead. She grips the bottom of his shirt while he pretends not to notice how her hands shake.

“I can’t back out of the greatest adventure of all time now, can I?” He continues, running a thumb over her cheek as if wiping away tears that haven’t yet fallen. “Besides, my lease runs out next month and I’d really hate to end up back on the streets.”

She releases a quick, frustrated laugh, finally giving in and accepting his embrace. “Sorry. I guess I’m not used to people sticking around.”

That, too, gives him pause. He suddenly isn’t sure who’s comforting who, realising that he’s just as terrified of Rapunzel leaving him. In the whirlwind since she proposed the crazy idea of travelling the Americas together, he hadn’t given much thought to what might possibly come after. No, at first, he only had the desire to give back as much light to the brightest girl he’d ever known that he’d do anything to make her happy, even if it meant fulfilling promises he’d made while exhausted and horny.

“I promise you I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls back, still not used to the art of comforting, and sends her a grin that nearly meets his eyes. “Except halfway around the world with you, that is.”

It makes her laugh, which is worth it at least. That’s all he wants to do, all the time—her laughter is carefree and unhinged, the purest form of happiness he’d ever find if he could bottle all other contenders and compare one another. His smile is real then, her joy washing over him, as he leans forward to press his lips to hers—

But Max finally trots over, his nose pressing into Rapunzel’s thigh with a wag of his tail. She quickly shifts out of Eugene’s arms to run her hands through his fur, scratching under his chin. Stupid dog, reaping the benefits of his girlfriends’s love through no effort of his own.

Sighing, he concedes to a quick kiss against her cheek. “So are you planning on showing me this completed van of yours?”

“Oh!” she exclaims, quickly morphing back into the cheerful Rapunzel he was accidentally falling in love with. Grabbing his hands, she tugs him up and out the door. “Come on, let me give you the grand tour!”

The van doesn’t look much different from the last time he saw it. Rapunzel opens up all of her craftily designed compartments to point out the wiring she accomplished that morning along with some finishing designs, which he compliments despite his lack of understanding. Not that he doesn’t care for the work she’s done—really, her skill in all things from carpentry to plumbing is damn impressive—but he has other things on his mind when she gets that excited flush in her cheeks, her voice lilting with pride.

She goes on to explain how she plans to decorate, pausing every once in a while for his opinion. Like how they’ll thread curtains to cover the gaping windows and add a rug in front of the small kitchen counters. She queries how to liven the ceiling space, but Eugene distracts her because he’s already ordered a map to stick above the bed so they can plan their next adventures together each night.

If he’s going to turn into a lovesick bastard, then at least he’s doing it for her.

“Hey,” he says, fishing for his phone from his back pocket once she stops to ponder how many fairy lights might be too many. “Pose for a picture?”

“ _Eugene_ ,” she whines despite the smile on her lips.

He started the instagram account around the same time that he converted his youtube to a documentary of their journey. Before Rapunzel, it’d just been another method of turning a profit. Though before her, he’d never anticipated finding anything worth documenting to begin with.

The photography aspect was a bigger surprise—he’d always had his phone in hand, one of his better vices over the years, but recently formed a habit of reaching for the camera feature every time something beautiful caught his eye. More often than not it was Rapunzel, with the sun catching the blonde in her hair, framing her like a halo, or her eyes shining as they fixated on a new conquest like a rusty key left in the garden or a dandelion untouched by the wind. She discovered wonder in everything, and he wanted to capture whatever it was she saw until he found it too.

He tries to prod her into talking more about the van while he kneels in the grass to get a better angle. Whenever he turns the camera on her, it’s as if she becomes another person, eyes downcast and twirling her hair demurely.

“By the way, did you ever figure out how to increase the water storage?” he asks.

And _there_ , her eyes light up, her posture straightening. She smiles right before launching into how she did, in fact, solve that problem she’d raved about, and it was, if you can believe it, easier than she’d anticipated.

Eugene grins as he surveys the pictures he snapped, Rapunzel’s pride shining through the screen. She’s still talking as he stands up, closes the distance between them, and wraps her in his arms. Her laugh echoes around him as he lifts her slightly off the ground, spinning her gently.

For a moment, he gets lost staring at her lips and the way they upturn unevenly, the left side quirked higher than the right, which he’d never noticed before. He slides a hand up to cup her jaw, thumb tracing over her upper lip to memorise that smile, but she moves too quickly, kissing first his fingers, the palm of his hand, then pulling him down by his neck to slat her lips against his own.

“When do you have to leave?” she asks between kisses.

He tries to conjure up his schedule, but quickly abandons that endeavour when her hands slip slyly under his shirt. “Not for a couple hours, I think.”

“Good.”

She drags him back into the house by his hand, her laugh trailing behind her, and he captures her just inside the doorway, intent on memorising her smile in as many ways as he can.

—

They spend the first day on the road with no destination in mind. Sure, they’ve planned a list of everything they want to see one day, but their starting point in rural North Carolina doesn’t leave many options for the short-term.

So they head vaguely in the direction of the nearest beach, several hours away. Rapunzel rides shotgun with Pascal asleep in her lap—they quickly discovered the cat disliked being alone in the back of the moving van, so he was rewarded with a promotion to the front seat much to Eugene’s chagrin.

“There!” Rapunzel startles Pascal, pointing to the left as they pass a sign. “Parking up ahead.”

Eugene surveys the small town they’re passing through. It’s quaint, with a homey, southern vibe that brings up bad memories. “You sure this is it, blondie?”

“Nearest off-leash beach I could find. I think it’s cute.”

She twists in her seat, peering behind them at where Max is lying in the back of the van. “Don’t you think it’s cute, Max?” He barks in reply, though Eugene suspects that might be due to the treat she tosses him.

It’s easy enough to find parking, the small town still barely on the edge of the upcoming summer frenzy. He backs easily into a nice spot at the edge of a small, beachside parking lot, the area already roaming with families in swimsuits taking advantage of the high noon sun.

“I can’t believe we did it,” she whispers as he turns off the ignition.

“Not too late to head back,” he says, fully knowing that Rapunzel would loathe the idea in spite of her sudden hesitation. She turns to him with the shocked stare he expected, bringing a soft laugh from his chest.

He leans over to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, attempting to chase away any alarm stirring in her chest. In novel situations, his girlfriend is prone to panicking, and he hates when her forehead creases in worry. Especially when they should be celebrating their first day on the road.

“What should we do first?” he asks gently.

Her eyes roam their surroundings. It’s a typical beachside town, with themed shops and restaurants lining the streets, signs pointing out every attraction imaginable, including a supposedly famed boardwalk. He watches as Rapunzel turns abruptly in her seat, shuffling and sliding into the back of the van to greet Max, who excitedly scurries through her legs. Pascal, ever the fiend for company, meows scornfully from his abandoned seat.

Eugene gives him a quick pat, which the cat vehemently dislikes, and steps out through the door to open up the side of the van.

Immediately, Max leaps out, quickly scouting the area. Not far behind him bounds Rapunzel, her sandals already cast aside, green sundress billowing around her legs as she races to the beach.

“Last one in the water has to make dinner!” she shouts, Max nipping at her heels.

Barely taking the time to crack a window for Pascal and lock up the van, casting off his own shoes as he goes, Eugene chases after them. The two are already splashing in the surf by the time he reaches them, both soaked to the bone.

He reaches for Rapunzel’s waist, pulling her against him long enough to press a kiss to the crown of her head before pushing her into an oncoming wave. Her shriek dissolves into laughter when she steadies herself and barrels into him for revenge, both of them tumbling down. Max barks, joining in on the excitement, as they splash and fight each other in the water like children.

Every once in a while, one of them will pause to steal a kiss, and they’ll fall still for a moment. Hands holding tightly to his shoulders or her hips, swaying with the current, until a caress becomes a shove and they’re quickly back at war. When they tire of that, they swim and float, or chase after fish, in Rapunzel’s case. She dives effortlessly under the water, and he forgets to stay afloat as he watches the way her hair drifts around her, seemingly suspended in time.

It’s been years since Eugene’s been to the ocean. Once again, he’s amazed at how beautiful the world seems now that he’s seeing it with her. He used to regard the beach as an inconvenience—a too long car ride, the cold bite of the water, sand adhering to every surface.

Now he lies just on the edges of the outgoing tide, peacefully basking in the sun, while Rapunzel heads off to quickly care for the pets and grab a bite to eat.

She comes back with two ice cream cones and sits down with her legs across his. There’s a smile on her face as she gazes out over the horizon, and he’s sure that his grin is just as large as he keeps his eyes on her. He left his phone back in the van, but he doesn’t mind taking the mental picture this once, keeping it for himself.

In the midday light, she seems to glow. Her hair, messy on a good day, is now windswept and tangled, sticking out around her. But she lounges back on one hand, letting the sea breeze tousle her, the embodiment of ease as she catches an escaping drip of ice cream on the tip of her tongue. Her still soaked dress clings to her body, adorned with sand like glitter caught in the embroidery, and he unabashedly slides a hand under her thighs to pull her closer.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

She laughs, leaning away from where his lips brush her neck. Her face is already flushed from the sun, but the way her eyes continuously dance down to his lips is unmistakable.

“So are you,” she says.

He tries to kiss her, but she twists again, stealing a bite of his mint chip instead. The way she licks her lips, challenge gleaming in her eyes, is almost enough to have him casting their ice cream into the surf and pulling her fully into his lap, but he lunges to grasp her arm instead, knowing he can overpower her long enough to bring her cone up to his mouth.

Their sudden movement stirs Max from his stupor, and he bounds to his feet, yapping and running around them. Eugene unentangles himself during the commotion, shoving the last of his ice cream cone in his mouth. He has a head start on Rapunzel, who’s still halfway through her strawberry sorbet.

Max at his heels, the two race along the shore, leaving her to shout empty threats behind them.

—

As Eugene prepares dinner, Rapunzel sits outside with her needle and thread. She’s meticulously embroidering birds on a denim jacket—his jacket, in fact, before she snatched it from his closet and claimed it as her own. Not that he would’ve stopped her, giggling as she spun to show it off, sleeves dangling past her hands like wings.

There’s not really much room in the van for them both, not with Eugene fluttering around the makeshift kitchen. It’s nothing more than a bench top and a sink, with a small propane burner that they store in the cupboards, but the minimal floor space left over was immediately claimed in names of Max and Pascal.

He has the burner out now, frying a colourful arrangement of vegetables that Rapunzel purchased before they head out this morning. Truthfully, he isn’t much of a cook, but he knows enough to toss things in oil and stir them around. He even takes a moment to plate them artfully beside their salmon fillets before bringing both dishes out and sitting on the towel beside his girlfriend.

This time of the year, the sun has barely begun to set by the time they finish. He sets his finished plate on top of hers, not bothering to scold Max as he comes to sniff out leftovers, and wraps his arms around Rapunzel as she leans into him to gaze up at the sky.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” she whispers.

He doesn’t ask her to clarify, knowing the words aren’t necessarily meant for him.

The crowd thins out as the last bit of light leaves the horizon, the few sparse clouds reflecting purples and pinks down at them before winking out. As they watch, Rapunzel warm against his side, the stars slowly blink into the sky.

“Look.” She stirs in his arms, pointing high in front of them. “There’s Venus.”

Eugene tries to follow her gaze, but only sees smatterings of stars. Not that he’d know what to look for anyway.

She trails her finger up as she continues. “Jupiter. And the constellation Leo.”

“I don’t know how you can tell any of these apart.”

“It’s not too hard.” Her hand falls and rests over his, where he holds her waist, gently intertwining their fingers. “Just takes a bit of studying.”

He laughs. “My greatest weakness.”

She sits forward suddenly, looking sternly into his eyes. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Before he can comprehend what she’s saying, her eyes drift past him and light up, smile engulfing her face. “Oh, look over there! The Messier 11 cluster is rising! It’s known for resembling a duckling.”

Again, he has no idea what he’s meant to see. When he was a kid, he would find his own constellations, connecting the dots however he pleased. But now he only sees pinpricks of light, pretty as they are, and certainly nothing close to a duck.

“That’s certainly a duck,” he says instead. He half expects her to call him out—it’s what he’d do after all—but she just leans back against him, tucking her head under his chin.

Rather she asks, “How would you write about it?”

It’s a confession he made to her a couple weeks ago, when they were discussing the financial aspects of living on the road. He admitted that, in his weaker moments, he’d authored a few short stories under the name Flynn Rider. It was a secret he became accustomed to hiding, but for the first time, he was met with awe and excitement. She asked a million questions, relenting momentarily only when he pulled the electronic copies up on his phone. And before he knew what’d happened, he admitted quietly that he actually really loved doing it.

That’s how she roped him into the game again—encouraging him and pushing him to reach his dreams. It was kind of nice, to be honest, to feel as if someone cared for him. So he tries for her, describing the night sky and the stars like poetry—or at least the best he can on the spot, thankful for the dark hiding the nervous flush in his cheeks.

It earns him a kiss and a quick squeeze to his hand, still under hers.

She thankfully returns to pointing out more stars, laughing when he tries to point out what he thinks is the Big Dipper. Though once she yawns through her explanation of circumpolar stars, Eugene suggests they head in.

He slides out his phone as she enters before him though, quickly taking a photo of her silhouette against the lit interior of the van, the night sky blanketing them both.

By the time they settle into bed, their situation falls heavily on his shoulders. He’s aware of the irony that not even three months after finally settling into his first real home and turning his life around, he’s given it all up for a hastily constructed van and a girl. A beautiful, incredible girl who showed him that the world wasn’t all hard corners and misfortune. Maybe he has this life thing figured out better than he thought, actually.

“Eugene?” she asks, head on his chest, dog and cat at their feet.

For a moment, he wonders dumbly if she’s heard his thoughts. “Mm?”

“I love you.”

Once upon a time, those three words would’ve frightened him, and he waits for the panic to creep up his throat before realising that he’s smiling. He’s known for a while now that he loves Rapunzel, subconsciously shoving it to the back of his mind to cast it aside like he’s used to, but that’s not necessary anymore.

He strokes a hand through her hair, tugging lightly on the end of her ponytail so she shifts to look up at him. She smiles back at him, accepting the soft kiss he presses to her upper lip.

“I love you, too, sunshine.”

If every day is even half as good as today, he thinks, then perhaps loving Rapunzel will be the best decision he’s ever made.


	2. trying not to look at her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao at this rate i'll have this fic finished by 2024.... ok but don't hold me to that.

_“Life on the Road | Traveling Northeast” uploaded by EugeneFitz on 29 November 2015._

_[Begin Transcript 00:05:08]_

_[The image is shaky as the camera focuses on a young woman spinning with her arms extended. She is surrounded by trees and flecked with shadows. A sign in the background reads “Little River State Park”.]_

_Rapunzel: Woo!_

—

In July, they lose any semblance of cohesion. Rapunzel wakes early in the mornings, opening the doors and starting the day over the sounds of Eugene’s angry protests, pulling the quilted blanket over his eyes. He dirties up the small living space, living too largely for the small confines and forcing a grumpy Rapunzel onto fold-up chairs outside as he prepares dinner.

Even Max and Pascal act out through the tension, barking for hours on end until the cops shine their flashlights through the windows, or hiding under the front seats despite copious amounts of coaxing, in the case of the latter.

When she finally snaps, they’re outside a supermarket, teeming paper bags in their hands as they shout at one another. 

“I don’t know what you want from me!” He slams the door shut behind the last placed grocery bag, the sound shocking them both into a stunned silence.

The argument itself is insignificant, though they can both feel the tension of the past few weeks settling heavily in its wake. Rapunzel shrinks back, and he hates himself a little for it, his anger dissipating into something akin to guilt.

“Maybe you should take me home,” she says, voice steady despite the way her hands shake.

There are a thousand things he should say instead, but he’s tired. They both are. “Fine.”

He climbs into the cab, and she settles in the seat beside him, legs pulled up in front of her chest like a shield. For a moment, they both stew in the silence, and Eugene watches numbly as the people around them carry on with their lives like normal, as if his carefully constructed fantasy isn’t falling apart. Then he turns on the ignition and drives back the way they came.

Only two states over from North Carolina, it won’t take more than a day’s travel to undo all the distance they’ve covered thus far. He marks the shortest route on the map, compares the bold red line to Rapunzel’s messy scrawling of their brief stays and long detours.

He’s an idiot for thinking this could be anything more than what it was. Now he’s going to end up on Lance’s doorstep with empty hands and a van he can no longer stand to look at.

He can’t even look behind him, where Rapunzel lies in the bed alone, having turned in without saying goodnight. She always says goodnight, kissing him for good measure. It’s something he’s come to look forward to at the end of each day, but now it’s just something else he’s ruined along with the rest of his life.

“Eugene?”

Heart leaping into his throat, he finally glances into the back of the van, finding Rapunzel in a mound of blankets with her hands folded self-consciously in her lap. He can’t get a good look at her face, hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair.

“Yes?” he tentatively shoots back.

“Would… you come here?”

Damn it, he still can’t deny her anything. He clamours out of the driver’s seat, having to squeeze past the kitchen counters at his back, and gets his sneaker caught in his haste.

Though when he reaches the bed, Eugene sits hesitantly on the edge of the mattress, his sudden burst of longing taken over by something sadder. And there’s anger hidden within him, too, burning closer to the surface than he’d like.

“What is it, Rapunzel?” 

Neither of them miss the way his words bite.

“Never mind.”

She turns away again, lying back down and curling under the blankets. The sight of her like that loosens the part of him that’s hopelessly in love, so with a sigh, he stretches out on the mattress beside her. He tucks an arm under his head, gazing at the van’s ceiling, and wordlessly invites her to scoot closer if she chooses to.

There’s a world map taped carefully above them, a small red star indicating where they left home. He gazes over it and remembers all their late night planning—Rapunzel has lists in her phone of nearly every city in the Americas at this point, and he’s fairly certain she could point out each and every one. 

As his eyes trail down Chile, he hears a shuffle beside him, and tenses as Rapunzel situates herself beside him. He doesn’t dare to breathe lest he break the moment.

“I can’t decide what to paint on it,” she says softly. “To check off each country, I mean.”

He stays silent, not sure what she expects from him, but somehow sure anything he could say would be wrong. For just one last moment, he wants to pretend that everything is fine.

Rapunzel sighs. “I don’t want to turn back yet.”

“Well, we’re kind of running out of other options here, sunshine.”

“So you think we should give up?”

When he’s finally brave enough to turn his head, he finds she’s already looking right at him, wide eyes seeing straight through to his soul.

“Hey, we tried, we lost,” he says, trying hard not to lose face against her stare. “That’s life.”

“That’s _crap_.”

At hearing her curse, Eugene tries his hardest not to laugh, but can’t contain the grin that breaks out. She blushes immediately, and he forcibly prevents himself from leaning in to kiss her. Fuck, he really does love her, despite everything.

“Alright, you delinquent. Then what do you propose?”

“I love you,” she says, and that takes him by surprise. “And I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy lately. I know I’m a lot to deal with.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s just been trickier than I thought to adjust to life like this, but I can try to do better—”

This time he does kiss her, quick enough to startle her out of her current stream of consciousness, because he can’t believe he got so caught up in his own head that he neglected to give every ounce of his love to the most amazing woman he’s ever known. 

“Rapunzel.” He kisses her again, already eager to make up for lost time. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. It’s my fault for not just talking to you.”

“I guess we’re both in over our heads here.”

Tentatively, she reaches for him, and he melts into her embrace. It’s hard to spend too much time in his own guilt when she’s holding him like home. He presses a string of kisses across her crown, smiling when she laughs into his chest, hands curling into his shirt as she slides as close to him as she can.

“Maybe,” he agrees, but he can’t remember why he thought so now that her lips are trailing up his neck. “Though for the record, I love you, too.”

She smiles against him. “So we can keep going?”

With her hands halfway to removing his shirt, he’s not entirely sure which scenario her question pertains to, but he supposes the answer’s the same either way. He moves back just far enough to cup her jaw and run a thumb over her bottom lip, marvelling for a second at how lucky he is to still have her in his arms. 

“Absolutely,” he says.

Then he kisses her long into the night.

—

In August, Rapunzel takes a pair of craft scissors to her hair. That’s how he finds her when he walks in with the groceries—bent over the small tin sink with a handheld mirror, carelessly hacking away at the hair behind her ears.

“Eugene!” She grins, spinning dangerously with her scissors.

At her feet, Max jumps up and starts barking, which forces Eugene to step back out of the van as the minimal space becomes a tornado of fur.

“Hey,” he greets, “sunshine.”

He nearly calls her blondie, one of the few nicknames he rotates through, before realising the entirety of her dyed hair is now in a discarded plait on the kitchen counter. In the back of his mind, he’s aware he looks like an idiot gawking at her, but Eugene can’t help but stare. Her roots had grown out long before she’d ever met him, so it shouldn’t shock him nearly as much as it does, but somehow without the blonde dragging her down she looks warmer—and fiercer.

“Well, what do you think?”

“You’re beautiful.” And he finally has the sense of mind to put down the groceries and envelop her in his arms. “Though you’ve missed a little, uh, everywhere.”

She laughs. “Clean it up for me?”

Taking the child’s size scissors from her, Eugene expertly directs her as he trims her hair into somewhat manageable layers. He’s spent enough time trying to perfect his own hairstyle that he’s picked up a few tricks of the trade, and when he finally steps back to get another look at her, he smiles in satisfaction.

She runs her hands through her hair a few times, accepting the small mirror when he offers it.

“Well, princess, is it up to your standards?” he asks.

Her hair, now unmistakably a rich brown, sticks out from her head without the weight to keep it down. It bounces as she hops back into Eugene’s arms, and he experimentally runs a hand through the blunt strands at the nape of her neck. 

“It’s perfect! Thank you, Eugene.”

She kisses his shoulder where her head lies before springing back out of his arms. 

As Rapunzel tidies up the kitchen sink, he returns to the discarded groceries. Pascal, menace that he is, has curled up inside one of the paper bags, no doubt shedding heinous amounts of fur all over their fresh veggies.

They’ve gotten better at moving in sync, though. She knows when to dart of the way so Eugene can open their small fridge and pack in the perishables just as he instinctively releases the hinge that drops a small table for Rapunzel to get her work done. He catches her running her fingers through her hair every so often, and smiles to himself, pleased to see her happy.

“So why the change?” he asks once he finally settles, shoving Max to the side so he can lie across their bed.

Rapunzel, sitting at her desk with the laptop spread before her, smiles over at him.

It makes his heart skip a beat the way she manages to hold so much love in her eyes. He reaches out subconsciously, running his thumb down her cheek and hoping it sends the message across.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “It just felt…like time for something new.”

“Well, it really does look amazing. Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“A few times, I think.”

He reaches closer again, this time turning on his stomach so he can lean over and kiss her cheek. She laughs, holding onto his arm in feigned support, and readjusts their positions until her lips find his.

“Remind me to get a couple photos later,” he adds, and she groans like she always does when he tries to exploit her for his photography despite the sparkle in her eyes. Really, it’s not his fault she’s the perfect muse.

—

In September, they find themselves on an unfamiliar driveway, a pit in the bottom of Eugene’s stomach. 

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Rapunzel tells him softly.

He looks over at her, wearing her best dress and a smile just for him, and he swallows his nerves. As long as she stays by him, he can conquer anything within the intimidating stone house. “Well, we’re already here.”

They’re in New Hampshire, which as far as he can tell is a fairly useless state. Thus far it seems to only contain some rather disappointing breakfast rolls, weird bridges, and the manor that his birth parents have been living peacefully in all this time.

It was Rapunzel who’d been the catalyst. She’d found the envelope as they were packing up the meagre one-bedroom he called home, tucked between the pages of a well-worn copy of _The_ _Lighthouse_. Though he’d received it shortly after his eighteenth birthday, it remained unopened until the moment Rapunzel brought it before him and he was just curious enough to finally break that seal. As they claimed, his mother had become pregnant too soon in their relationship, when she had two years left of her doctorate and his father was months from his first deployment overseas. So a few days after his birth, she walked right out of the hospital doors with him still in the plastic bassinet. 

He could fill in the blanks after that. The Fitzherberts adopting him a few months later, winding up with Child Protective Services a year after that, then bouncing through foster homes until the system kicked him out with nothing but a fancy letter from the first family to abandon him. They had him tracked down the second they could legally, eighteen years of regret on their shoulders and aching to reconnect.

Rapunzel sits with him as he waits, staring up at the house. It’s rundown if you look closely, not nearly as idyllic as it must’ve once been, and the surrounding land is grossly overgrown. Eventually, he reaches across the console for her hand.

“Can you go first?” he chokes out.

“Of course.”

She reaches toward him, brushing her other hand across his cheek, and he leans into the soft touch. Eyes closed, he spends one more minute accepting her comfort before exhaling and shoving open the van door. As promised, Rapunzel marches ahead of him to the door, letting him cower behind her as she knocks.

The door opens almost immediately to a slight woman who appears as nervous as he feels. At her side is a much more intimidating man, though despite the way he towers, he holds the same worried expression.

“Hello,” Rapunzel greets, stretching forward a hand. “I’m Rapunzel Sauer, and this is—”

“Horace!” The man, his father, steps forward with his arm outstretched.

Eugene steps back. “Oh, fuck this, I can’t.”

He’d seen the birth certificate in the letter they’d sent him, the horrifying presence of the name Horace Ardelean staring back at him. If he’d had reservations about meeting the couple who abandoned him as an infant, that was his tipping point. He crumpled and tossed it in the first dumpster they came across.

“Eugene,” Rapunzel says now. 

For a moment, he thinks she’s scolding him, but her words are directed at the man who claims to be his father.

She’s the one who encouraged him to email back. If anyone could match him for a fucked up upbringing, it was her, and she wanted him to jump at his chance of a happily ever after. When in New Hampshire, or whatever, after all.

The man keeps his arm extended, though it seems more desperate now that Eugene looks back. “Ah, yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Please, come in,” the woman says, taking her husband’s hand.

Janelle, he reminds himself. Janelle and Edmund Ardelean. He’s still skeptical, but they don’t look like the addicts he always imagined, or the perfect American family he sometimes dreamed would take him back. He wants to hate them, just as he’s been doing guiltlessly all through his life, but seeing it all in front of him only leaves him feeling hollow.

She leads them inside to a small sitting room, and Edmund shoves a plate of cookies at them before they can sit down. It’s terribly awkward, and he’s already scanning the room for exits.

“You have a lovely home,” Rapunzel says. Bless her.

“Oh, thank you. It belonged to Edmund’s grandfather, right, dear?”

Eugene steals a cookie as they make small talk, thankful that at least his girlfriend is friendly enough to out-chat even his estranged birth parents. He feels his confidence grow in the meantime, knowing everyone else is just as uncomfortable and having Rapunzel’s hand firmly in his own.

Eventually, Janelle speaks his name. “I’m… sorry. I know this is overwhelming. We never—you can’t know how relieved we are to see you.”

“Yeah, well.” He coughs, as if he had any words stuck in his throat, but truly he’s at a loss. “It’s been fun.”

“You’re not leaving so soon?” Edmund asks, but Janelle places a hand on his arm. “Er, please, I mean, will you keep in touch? Son.”

He bristles. “Sure.”

Rapunzel stays silent, letting him speak, but brushes a thumb over the back of his hand—he has her support in this, in whatever he does. He loves her for it.

“You’re welcome here any time,” Janelle says, standing. 

She reaches an arm toward him, and he hesitates before reaching out and taking her hand. It’s more of a quick grasp than a shake, and he lets go quickly. Edmund has no such reservations and throws an arm around both him and Rapunzel before either can protest. The anxiety returns to a steady pit in his stomach as an unbearable warmth creeps up his spine. This is _not_ his family. He doesn’t have one, never has.

They’re out of the house and driving away in less than a minute, his breathing evening out the farther away they travel.

“You know, I’ve heard nice things about Vermont,” he says at last, turning onto the highway without sparing a final thought. He’d already spent enough time dwelling in his past.

—

In October, he finds his family in the woman beside him at the campsite. 

They’re celebrating the publishing of his first novella. It was a small thing, entirely electronic and very little fanfare, but Rapunzel insisted on the jumbo-sized marshmallows for s’mores and the confetti poppers. She’s spreading out the graham crackers now, Eugene assigned to keeping the marshmallows from catching fire—truthfully, he loves the burnt ones most, but she’d confessed to never having s’mores before and he’ll be damned if he ruins a second of the experience for her.

It’s hard not to feel proud, though, when she keeps wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him tight. Her delight is contagious, he’s noticed.

“You know,” she says, brushing back her hair. She’s been keeping it trimmed since she cut it off, but her habits of hiding behind the strands have proven hard to break. “It really is impressive how far we’ve come. And I’m glad to be here now, with you.”

He’s never been very good at expressing his emotions, but it’s easy to smile down to her, kiss her forehead. “Me too, sunshine.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to a normal life after this.”

“Who said we had to?”

She reaches for the nape of his neck, pulling him close enough that their noses brush. For a moment, her eyes bore into his and he can’t help but stare back. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” he answers, and he surprises himself with how easily it comes. 

Rapunzel is kissing him before the word has finished passing from his lips, smiling all the while. Her fingers twist in the roots of his hair, and he grins back, the atmosphere of the evening surely turning him into a madman. It’s not every day that Eugene Fitzherbert gets held down in one place for long, never mind forever. But he’s content to stay right where she’ll have him.

He sets a hand over the one she has placed on his chest, intertwining their fingers and briefly imagining a pair of matching rings on each of their hands.

The marshmallows catch on fire in the end, startling them out of their kiss. She scrambles to gather the skewers they’d propped over the fire, giving him the order to have the plate of graham crackers ready for her. He can’t up but laugh, earning him a glare and an exceptionally scorched marshmallow.

Rapunzel scarfs down most of the s’mores, and he makes a mental note to keep a stock of marshmallows for future use. Even Max and Pascal join them for dessert with half a marshmallow each, though that pretentious mutt of his seems more interested in the leftover vegetables from dinner.

It’s a strange family he’s ended up with, certainly, but for once he’s not complaining.

—

In November, they wake up to the notifications blaring on his phone. He swats it away at first, dismissing it as any other alarm, but its crash to the floor only wakes Max.

“Shit,” he mutters, rolling half blind out of bed. 

Behind him, Rapunzel sits up, hugging the covers to her bare chest. “Eugene?”

It’s hard to search the floor with a mass of fur in his face, so he scoops up the dog, planting him firmly beside his girlfriend much to both of their delight. In the remaining cramped space, he finally locates his phone on top of yesterday’s jeans and grabs both of them as he stands back up.

“Dropped my—holy shit.”

Rapunzel looks up, Max still licking her face as she tries half-heartedly to wrestle him away. “What’s wrong?”

Sitting down on the bed, the three of them watch as he scrolls through the thousands of notifications his phone accumulated through the night. It takes a minute to sort through, but they find the instigating video on youtube—another creator who linked to Eugene’s channel as their next travel inspiration. 

Then there’s the emails. Congratulations on reaching 10,000 subscribers immediately followed by another for 50,000, and the numbers continue to climb.

In their shock, neither one of them notice when Max begins gnawing on the phone.


End file.
